He could not make up his mind to lie down and
relax as Frank had done. All was too new and strange.
"Are there snakes round here?" he demanded.
Frank's grunt might have been either yes or no. Nucky glanced
impatiently at the guide's closed eyes, then he began to clamber
aimlessly and languidly over the rocks to the river edge. At a
distance of perhaps a hundred feet from Frank he stopped, looked at the
bleak, blank wall of the river opposite, bit his nails and shuddering
turned back. He crouched on a rock, near the guide, smoking one
cigarette after another until Frank jumped to his feet.
"Three o'clock, New York! Time to get ready for the night."
"I don't want to stay in this hole all night!" protested Nucky, "I
couldn't sleep."
"You'll like it. You've no idea how comfortable I'm going to make you.
Now, your job is to gather drift wood and pile it on that flat topped
rock yonder. Keep piling till I tell you to quit. The nights are cold
and I'll keep a little blaze going late, for you."
"What's the idea?" demanded Nucky. "Why stay down here, like lost
dogs, when there's a first class hotel back up there?"
Frank sighed. "Well, the idea is this! A real he man likes camping in
the wilds better'n he likes anything on earth.
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